


Take Your Time

by CDRomelle



Series: We're All We Have (Sylvixgrid) [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dirty Talk, Multi, Orgasm Delay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Post Timeskip, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, difficulty orgasming, literally just smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CDRomelle/pseuds/CDRomelle
Summary: Ingrid’s known for a while that she takes a little longer to come than most other people. At least, compared to the heroines in the more “adult” knightly romance books she’s read. She used to be embarrassed about it, worried that any partner she might have would find it annoying or burdensome.Sylvain and Felix treat it like a challenge.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: We're All We Have (Sylvixgrid) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578100
Comments: 19
Kudos: 172





	Take Your Time

**Author's Note:**

> *blushing furiously, hands you Sylvixgrid smut*  
> This takes place in the same continuity as my other sylvixgrid fic, "Comrades in Arms," but you don't have to read that to understand what's happening here. This is literally just smut.

“It’s okay, Ingrid, take your time.” 

Sylvain’s voice, hot and tingling in her ear, sitting astride the line between sarcastic and sincere, makes her throw her head back as surely as if he’d held her by the throat. 

They’re in Sylvain’s old room in Garreg Mach, Felix flat on his back on the bed, Ingrid kneeling astride his waist rocking up and down on his dick while Sylvain holds her from behind, one arm wrapped under her breasts to guide her movements, the other pressed against her belly, his long callused fingers between her legs, rubbing circles around her clitoris. 

“Ice queen Ingrid,” Sylvain murmurs. “Takes so long for her to thaw. That’s okay. That’s why she needs two of us, doesn’t she, Felix?”

Felix grunts. He hasn’t said a word for several minutes, his face red and taut with the strain of not coming. 

“Felix looks so good when you’re making him wait for you,” Sylvain whispers, and both she and Felix whimper again. 

Ingrid’s known for a while that she takes a little longer to come than most other people. At least, compared to the heroines in the more “adult” knightly romance books she’s read. She used to be embarrassed about it, worried that any partner she might have would find it annoying or burdensome. 

Sylvain and Felix treat it like a challenge. 

“Getting tired, Felix?” Sylvain says, and she can feel the smirk in his voice. “All you have to do is lie here and look pretty and let Ingrid fuck herself on you.” 

Ingrid forces her eyes open. Felix does look pretty with his flush creeping down his heaving chest and his dark hair a mess against the pillow. He’s taut as a bowstring, his hands soothing her aching thighs and his hips held still. Letting her set the pace. 

Sylvain isn’t so generous. 

“Come on, Ingrid, I wanna see your tits bounce.” Using his arm around her torso and even his hand between her legs he all but lifts and drops her, bouncing her on Felix, and both of them yelp at the new force. 

Usually Ingrid feels neutral to negative about her own breasts: obtrusive, kind of cumbersome, just not _her._ But Sylvain’s breath is heavy in her ear, his chest heaving against her back, and she may not like her breasts all that much, but she loves that he loves them. Her eyes meet Felix’s and they share this moment: Sylvain wants them. Sylvain makes them feel gorgeous. They are gorgeous, and Sylvain goes wild for them. 

Then Felix’s expression shatters, his back arching, shaking hands fumbling for his own dick to squeeze the base. 

“Don’t come, Felix,” Sylvain says, breathless. 

“I won’t.”

“Don’t.” 

“I won’t!

“You can do it. And if you can’t, that’s just as much fun, isn’t it? Because then you’ll feel like you have to make it up to her next time you go down on her, and we’ll all enjoy that, too, won’t we—”

“Sh-shut up,” Felix hisses. “Damn it, Sylvain, shut up.” 

Ingrid huffs out a laugh, her head lolling on Sylvain’s shoulder. She would die before she admits it, but she likes how Sylvain never shuts up during sex. Not unless you know what to do to him, at least. 

Felix growls, his hips jerking upward just as Sylvain drops her down, and something twinges deep inside. “Slow!” she gasps, “slow down!” 

Sylvain obliges, slumping against her back as he catches his breath, his fingers still swirling around her clit but his other arm now holding her to steady himself, not the other way around. 

Ingrid closes her eyes and leans back into that warm, solid weight. Felix is deep inside her, the head of his dick level with Sylvain’s fingers, right against that elusive place. 

She tilts her hips. A little pulse, keeping Felix close and deep as she lights up. "Mmmm..." She tilts her hips again. Again. Settles into a rocking, grinding motion that pulls a low, strangled groan out of Felix.

Sylvain hooks his head over her shoulder. “Yes, Ingrid, fuck yourself on Felix’s dick.”

“Circles,” she reminds him.

Sylvain chuckles, the vibrations warm against her back. His fingers pick up their pace on her clit, and… and… 

It’s like everything before this was foreplay and now, now she can see the path. 

“That’s right. We’ve got you, don’t we, Felix? We’ve got you, Ingrid. Take what you need.” 

She can’t do it sitting up. So Ingrid leans back against Sylvain, letting him support her. It changes the angle of Felix’s dick and she shudders. Relax, relax. Riding Felix rough was fun, but now it’s time for something else. Time to make space for something else. 

“Help… help me,” she pants, and Sylvain gathers her up against him, rising up on his heels once more to help her grind, to take the strain off her thighs. 

“Yes, baby, I’ll help you fuck yourself on Felix, I’ll help you use Felix.”

Felix grunts, a half-hearted protest. He still has one hand clamped at the base of his dick, his other hand gripping his own hair so tight he looks in danger of ripping it out. A little tongue of guilt licks at her, for making him wait so long. But it’s smaller than the smug, burning thrill of it. He won’t come until she does. He’s here for her. They both are. 

“Mmm,” Sylvain groans. “Well-said, Felix. Felix is right." He pulls her even tighter against his chest, his own thighs shaking as he raises and lowers her. The hand on her clit moves away—Ingrid whines—and he tucks her short hair behind her ear to whisper: “I’m fucking you, Ingrid. I’m fucking you with Felix’s dick.” 

His hand returns to her clit as he holds her hips down, filling her up with Felix, and Ingrid lets out an “Oh-h-h-h” that would mortify her if she was anywhere but here. 

“That’s it, baby. Don’t stop. Unless—you want to change positions?”

“No,” she gasps. “Just—just—keep going, please—” 

She’s tensing up again. Ingrid expels a shaky breath and forces herself to surrender all her weight, all her strain, into Sylvain’s strong arms and flexing thighs. He readjusts the arm under her breast and now he’s all but lifting her himself, doing all the work to keep Felix moving inside her in those deep but small pulses. All she has to do is keep tilting her hips back and forth just so, little movements, steady beat. Slowly building. Sylvain’s hand follows her lead, circling, circling, circling. She can feel the hot hard length of his dick pressed up against the small of her back. 

“Felix,” she moans. “Felix.” In response his fingers dig into the muscles of her hips, hard enough to hurt, but he doesn’t pull, doesn’t thrust. Doesn’t interrupt her pace. 

Felix inside, Sylvain outside, Ingrid clenching because that stokes the fire too; the moan it drags out of Felix a sweet unexpected reward. 

“You’re torturing him, Ingrid,” Sylvain says, with awe. 

She whimpers. 

“It’s okay, babe. He likes it. Look at him.” 

Ingrid cracks her eyes open. 

Felix is flushed red, from his face to halfway down his chest. 

“Tell her you like it, Felix.” 

Felix’s mouth hangs open, a pant and a snarl. He bares his teeth. “Shut. Up.”

“Come on, Felix.” Even Sylvain sounds out of breath now. Ingrid flushes red. So close, she feels so close, but it’s not happening, so close but not close enough—

“Come on, babe. Come on, Fee. She wants to hear it. I want to hear it. Say it, let us hear you say it—”

“Aaaaghh—”

Felix pulses inside her, thick and even harder than before, changing the angle, and suddenly her body arcs, taut and curved, head thrown back, mouth open, because—

“Oh!”

“That’s my girl,” says Sylvain. 

The path is clear, the cliff before her, the leap taken and now she’s here, suspended in the air, and all her impatience and frustration evaporates because now she knows, now there’s no hurry, none at all—

“Oh, Felix," she gasps, "don’t stop, please, I don’t want it to end.”

Felix lets out another strangled yell, his shoulders coming off the bed as he fights against his orgasm, and oh he’s so hard, hard and stuttering inside, and Sylvain steady on the outside, both surrounding her, filling her up with themselves, with their rhythm. 

It’s only. 

A matter. 

Of time. 

Ingrid wails as she shakes apart, orgasm ripping through her, Felix screaming through clenched teeth and Sylvain straining to keep his grip as she thrashes and rocks, head thrown back, thighs quaking. 

“I have you, I have you, I have you. Yes, Ingrid, so good.” 

She slumps, shudders, slumps again. Solid warmth behind her, shaking warmth beneath her. Ingrid lolls her head against Sylvain’s shoulder, her arms limp at her sides, as Sylvain gives her clitoris one last tweak and then, before she can scold him, runs his big hands over her body, soothing, steadying. 

Felix has both hands over his face, his breath harsh and ragged. Ingrid takes a deep breath, then clenches down, just to see him twitch. He glares at her between splayed palms. She clenches again. 

“Stop,” he moans, but his lips are tilted upward. Ingrid lets out a breathless laugh and Felix gives a little smiling huff that turns into a gasp as Sylvain pitches Ingrid sideways, Felix sliding out of her as she falls on her side onto the bed. 

“That was so fucking hot,” Sylvain says, his teeth scraping over the shell of her ear. “Fucking… so fucking hot.” He props himself up on his elbow. “Look at Felix. You destroyed him, Ingrid. He barely made it to the end for you.” He presses his hard cock against the small of her back, rolls her onto her stomach so Felix can see him tugging himself. “Maybe I need to show him how it’s done, huh?”

Felix rolls his eyes, reaches over Ingrid to punch his arm. “Fuck you, Sylvain.” 

Sylvain rolls on top of Ingrid, pressing a grunt out of her, then flops to lie in between them. “Well, come on then,” he says with a grin, giving his cock another tug. 

Ingrid props herself up. “Felix,” she says, relishing the breathlessness still lingering in her voice. “Sylvain talks too much.” 

“Yeah.”

“You love it,” Sylvain scoffs.

“Let’s shut him up,” she says. 

Felix smiles, sharp and hungry like a predator. “Yeah.” 

Sylvain opens his mouth, but for once he can’t get a word out before Ingrid pounces, Felix not far behind. 

**Author's Note:**

> Why is Felix's penis a dick and Sylvain's penis a cock? I don't know, but it just seems right doesn't it? 
> 
> So I turned my other sylvixgrid fic, "Comrades in Arms" into a series and added this fic as the second installment. I've also been toying around with another installment showing what happened the morning after the three of them fooled around in the cabin in that fic. 
> 
> Um anyway. can you believe I have now posted three smuts upon this very internet? I can't. Come say hi on Twitter at @cdromelle if you want. happy holidays!~


End file.
